


Windshield - Seatbelt

by dickgrysvn



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Car Chases, Gen, I’m sorry, Jack Whump, Mac Whump, Matty appears very briefly, Mild Blood, Whump, just on a phone call
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickgrysvn/pseuds/dickgrysvn
Summary: A high-speed chase down a snowy road with a crazy genius who refuses to use either his seat or his seatbelt properly? That’s just a recipe for a very awful disaster.





	Windshield - Seatbelt

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a quick flash fic as a response to a tumblr post but me being me I wrote 2k words instead. If you don’t like descriptions of blood, you might wanna skip this one. Other than that, enjoy!!
> 
> (Ps I do have a new, much larger macgyver fic coming soon, it’s a teen!mac au and you can check out my progress and some snippets of it over on tumblr at @dickrysvnwrites!)

  Jack knew this car chase was gonna end badly. The second Mac undid his seatbelt and crawled onto his knees in his seat, Jack wanted to pull over and forcibly strap the kid back in. But he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t even slow down. Bullets ricocheted off their back bumper and through the back windshield as their pursuers fired endless magazines at them. Jack had the pedal floored completely, and it still wasn’t enough. The speedometer just hit 120 a second ago, but the distance hadn’t grown. If anything, it was smaller. Mac said he had an idea, though, and Jack had no idea what he was planning, but he still shouted when Mac undid his belt. Mac just told him to keep driving, he’d be fine, but Jack hated it.   

 

  So now he’s driving haphazardly on icy roads with a crazy hairbrained kid kneeling on his seat, pushing 130mph and praying they lose their tail before he loses control. Because at this speed, with Mac not strapped in... Jack forces down a shudder and tries to focus on keeping the car on the road. It’s nearly dark and it’s snowing and it’d be hard enough to stay in control even at normal speeds. He’s pretty sure he caught a sign a while back that listed the speed limit at 45. He’s going nearly three times that. He knows this needs to be his only focus. But even with Jack’s laser focus, he can’t account for the patch of black ice they suddenly hit. One second he’s speeding down a straight stretch of road, the next he’s yelling in panic as the car fishtails out of his control. All he can do is throw an arm out in attempt to stabilize Mac, but he knows in the split second before they slam into a snowbank that it’s pointless. There’s a flash of white, and at the speed they were going, hitting that snowbank is like hitting a brick wall. Jack sees Mac start to fly forwards, and then there’s a blinding pain in his arm. He’s dimly aware of Mac screaming and the sound of glass shattering, and then everything goes black.  

 

* * *

 

 

  When Jack blinks into consciousness just a few seconds later, the only thing he’s aware of his pain. His ears are ringing, his chest aches from the belt, his nose is busted from the airbag, his leg is pinched painfully under the dash, and the arm he threw out to protect Mac pulses with a brain-splitting pain. And then his stomach turns when he realizes what exactly happened to his arm. He turns to look next to him, knowing before he does exactly what he’s about to see. Mac is gone. Jack’s eyes travel to the shattered windshield, and his blood goes cold when he sees a jagged hole tinged with red.  _ Oh god, please no. _ He jerks his leg free, ignoring the pain, and then he’s stumbling out of the car, screaming Mac’s name. He stops dead when he sees the snow in front of the car. It’s streaked red around the giant crater in the middle, bright, glittering blood clashing brilliantly against the stark white snow. Mac is sprawled brokenly in the middle of it all, face first in the snow and unmoving. Jack fights to keep his stomach from rebelling, and throwing all thoughts of his own injuries aside, he drops to his knees in the freezing snow.

  “Mac!!  _ Oh God, _ Mac please! Don’t do this to me, kid,  _ please! _ ” He makes no attempt to stop the tears that flow freely now, his only thought on the scene in front of him. He thinks perversely of snow angels, and how this looks like an angel crash-landed in the snow. He reaches out a hand to Mac’s neck, praying he finds a pulse. For a second there’s nothing, and he feels his chest constrict with fear. And then he feels it: the faint, irregular  _ thud, thud, thud _ that sounds like music to his still-ringing ears. He chokes out a sob, but they’re nowhere near in the clear yet. He traces Mac’s still form with his fingers, stomach rolling at the unnatural twist of his arm and leg, the angry red blood soaking the snow around him. There are seeping cuts and gashes all over Mac’s exposed cheek, but the thing Jack’s most sickened by is the giant puddle of red staining the white snow under Mac’s side. Jack’s about to roll him onto his side to try to stop the bleeding when the faint light left in the sky catches on the edge of the giant piece of glass embedded in between his ribs. Jack inhales sharply, rolling back onto his heels at the near-miss he just had. If he had tried to move Mac and that piece cut something irreversible... his stomach rebels against him completely, and he empties its meager contents into the snow. He wipes his mouth and focuses on Mac again. When they went off the road, their pursuers had raced by them. Jack prays they can’t find them, or that they thought he and Mac wouldn’t have survived the crash and don’t bother coming back. Because he can’t afford to focus on anything but keeping Mac from bleeding out into the once-pristine snow.

  He checks to make sure there aren’t any other pieces of glass he missed, and then he slowly slips his arms under Mac’s chest and legs. His arm screams at him in protest, and Jack takes a fraction of a second to glance at it. One look tells Jack it’s broken, his forearm bent at an odd angle and bruised an ugly purple. But he can’t afford to not use it, so he grits his teeth and pushes through, gently turning Mac onto his back. Jack inhales sharply as he gets a full look at Mac’s face. It’s cut in over a dozen places, some just thin lines of red, others gushing steadily. His hair is matted with blood and snow, and his exposed neck and chest is littered with tiny pieces of glass and more cuts. Jack glances at the Mac-shaped imprint in the snow, and he shivers at the glistening blood outlining Mac’s shape into the snow. He fights down another sob and turns back to Mac. His biggest concern is the glass in his side, but he winces at the way Mac’s left arm is bent almost completely opposite the way it should be, the way his right shin is no longer straight halfway down.

  “Oh, buddy,” he breathes, heart breaking for his kid, lying just as broken in the freezing snow. He pulls out his phone with one hand, using the other to smooth the hair and snow off of Mac’s forehead as gently as he can. He wishes he were awake, because seeing him in complete still like this is utterly terrifying, but Jack knows the pain would be so unbearable that he’s infinitely thankful the kid is out for it right now. He dials Matty, praying he gets a signal. There’s a heart stopping moment of silence before it starts ringing, and he breathes an audible sigh of relief. His hand absently moves from Mac’s forehead to his good arm, fingers closing around Mac’s wrist and coming to rest on his pulse point. Mac’s pulse is weak, but it’s fairly steady, and it’s a beacon of sanity for Jack as the phone rings monotonously in his ear. Just when he thinks the call must not be going through, there’s a click and Matty’s voice comes through.

   _“Jack? What’s wrong?”_ Jack could cry with relief, but he clamps his emotions down and answers, keeping as brief as possible.

  “Mac’s hurt. It’s bad, Matty, really bad. We need an airlift.  _ Now _ ,” he manages to choke out, and Matty must be able to hear it in his voice because she starts shouting orders, and then her voice comes back to him over the line.

   _“They’re on their way. They’ll be there in ten, Jack.”_ Jack closes his eyes, a few tears escaping under his lashes.  _ “Talk to me, Dalton, what happened? Is our boy ok?”  _ Jack chokes out a sob now, and Matty inhales sharply.  _ “ _ Jack?!” _ _

  “He’s alive, Matty, but he– we crashed, he wasn’t wearing his belt, and he went through the window. He hasn’t woken up the whole time, but honestly that’s probably best because he’s got some nasty breaks and there’s a giant piece of glass in his side and– God, Matty there’s so much blood, it’s so bright on the snow and–“

   _“Dalton!”_ Matty’s harsh voice cuts him off.  _ “Jack. Listen to me. He’s going to be ok. He’s tough, we both know that. But right now he needs you to be calm, and take care of him, okay? I need you to take care of him.” _ Matty’s voice is softer than he’s ever heard it, and it brings him back to the present better than any yelling ever could.  _ “Bring him home safe, alright?” _ Jack nods, even though he knows she can’t see him.

  “Okay, Matty. Okay. He’s gonna be alright.” He’s reassuring himself more than her and they both know it. “I’m gonna see if I can do anything about this glass. And try to keep him warm,” he mutters, mostly to himself now. He sets the phone down, but he knows she won’t hang up. He probes around the glass, relieved to see it hasn’t bled much more since the initial crash. There’s still too much blood for Jack to be comfortable, but it hasn’t gotten worse and that’s what Jack chooses to focus on. He shrugs his flannel shirt off, leaving him in just a T-shirt, but he doesn’t care. He gently lifts Mac’s head and lays it under him, hoping to keep his head out of the cold snow. He rips a piece off of Mac’s flannel then and balls it up to place around the glass. He can’t risk removing it and undoing any clotting that’s happened, but he wraps the shirt around the edges and presses as tight as he dares. Mac groans slightly then, and Jack laughs excitedly. He’s still out, but he’s responding to pain and that’s all Jack cares about. And then he hears the telltale thudding of rotor blades, and he wants to laugh and cry and scream for joy. Mac does stir then, groaning again and rolling his head slightly. His eyelids flutter, and his face scrunches tight in pain as he comes to awareness. 

  “Hey buddy, just stay still, okay? You got thrown pretty bad, pal, but the evac’s almost here.” Even as he says it, the helicopter lands near them, and Jack drops his chin to his chest in exhaustion. And then Mac screams. Jack jerks up so suddenly he nearly blacks out, and he suddenly remembers his own injuries. But Mac’s screaming again and Jack forgets them just as quickly as he reaches a broken, bloody hand up to rest it on the one uninjured spot on Mac’s chest. “Hey, hey, I know. I know it hurts, I’m so sorry, Mac. Just hang in there, these guys are gonna give you the good stuff, okay?” He’s trying to smile at Mac but he can barely see through his tears, and then the medics are there and he’s being lifted to his feet and shuttled off to the helicopter before he amcan even protest. He twists around to see Mac, watching as the start to strap him to the bright orange stretcher. Jack catches another glimpse of bright red against sharp white and then his leg buckles and he collapses, and he doesn’t resist when the medics strap him into the helicopter and stick a needle into his arm.

 

  He’s almost completely unconscious when they finally get Mac onboard, and Jack tries to durge forward drunkenly, slurring his speech as he asks repeatedly if Mac’s alright. One of the medics attending to Mac turns to him and smiles tightly.

  “Just relax, Agent Dalton. He’s in serious condition but he’s responding well, he should be perfectly alright once we get him to the hospital, sir. But you need to let yourself get taken care of too,” he shouts over the sound of the rotor starting up, and Jack nods numbly as they lift off.  _ He’s going to be ok. _ It’s the last thing he thinks before his brain drifts off, sinking into the blissful peace of sleep.  _ Mac’s going to be ok. _


End file.
